


Caring Too Much

by PyroKlepto



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: (bit of both), Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroKlepto/pseuds/PyroKlepto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard has every right to feel betrayed by Gareth. Not a single person can deny that. But that doesn't mean he has to feel that way forever - in fact, he probably shouldn't. He has a kingdom to rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> The second episode of Galavant Season 2 ripped my heart out of my chest and I haven't been able to think about the show since. So I wrote this as a way of alleviating some of the heartbreak. All I can say is, the show better fix the mess it's put everyone in, or I'll be upset.
> 
> Mild spoilers for Galavant Seasons 1 and 2 ahead. Read at your own risk.

“Richard? Richard.”

Richard ignored the voice and the knocking at his door. He was finally back as the ruler of his kingdom, but he hadn’t spent more than a few minutes on his throne since returning. Instead, he had remained holed up in his room.

What sort of a life would it be ruling the kingdom without his best friend - ex best friend, he corrected himself - at his side? Or his head guard? 

Galavant had offered to stick around; to act as guard and possibly advisor while Richard got back on his feet. Richard had agreed, but mainly as a way to convince Galavant, Isabella, and Sid to stick around - they wouldn’t leave unless they were together, and he wanted to thank them in some way for all they had done. So, allowing Galavant to stay meant all three of them stayed; which meant that he could further show them hospitality.

Or, rather, have his servants do so, because he did not feel like leaving his room.

The pounding on the door became more insistent. Scowling, Richard got up and unlocked the door, wrenching it open. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice a bit more growly than he had intended it to be.

Galavant looked at him with raised eyebrows. “To check on you. You haven’t come out of there in ages.”

“I’m fine, thank you, glad we had this talk,” Richard answered in a rush. He moved to shove Galavant out the door.

Galavant, however, was much stronger and pushed back, nearly knocking Richard backwards. Stepping into the room, he shut the door behind him and crossed his arms. “It’s about Gareth, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not,” Richard retorted, brow furrowed. He crossed his arms in a defensive manner. 

Galavant gave him the Look. The one that said _I know you’re lying and I won’t stand for it._

Richard heaved a sigh. “Fine, fine. You win. Yes, it’s about Gareth. Satisfied?”

“You’re going to need to get over it eventually,” Galavant replied. “I know it’s not nice to hear, but you can’t just mope about him forever.” 

“I’m not _moping_ ,” Richard groused. 

“You’re hiding in your room at all times, refusing to eat much of anything except cakes, and haven’t genuinely smiled in days. That’s moping, Richard.”

Richard rolled his eyes, uncertain of how to respond, and looked away.

Silence fell for a long moment until Galavant reached out and placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “I understand it hurts. But you have to move on.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like to be betrayed by your best friend,” Richard burst out, unable to keep the bitterness from appearing in his voice.

“I’ve been betrayed before,” Galavant pointed out, raising his eyebrows. “More than once.”

“Yes, yes, I know, I remember Madalena betraying you and Isabella betraying you,” Richard said impatiently, waving a hand dismissively. “But it’s not the same. You don’t understand. He was my only friend growing up, and my only friend all my life. All these years, the only one who cared was Gareth. And now he’s betrayed me. He never really cared. It was the same as everyone else. They only pretended in order to gain favour.” Richard fet his heart twist inside his chest and sat down hard on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to curl up under the blankets.

Galavant sighed, very quietly. “Richard… several decades is a long time to pretend. I think Madalena just… got into his head. She has a way of doing that.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Richard let himself fall backward onto the bed. He turned away from Galavant and stared at the wall. “It simply doesn’t matter anymore.”

There was silence, and then Richard felt a hand briefly squeeze his shoulder and heard Galavant say, “All right.” Then the door opened and shut and he was alone again.

 

 

It had been several weeks now, and everyone was beginning to worry about Richard, right down to the last servant. He had hardly shown his face outside of his room all this time; when he did, it was at night, when he thought no one else was around. (Though occasionally, a guard off for a late-night drink or a restless maid caught sight of him regardless.)

Isabella had tried to talk to him as well; hoping that maybe her slightly more comforting way of handling things would be of more use than Galavant’s awkwardness. It had been to no avail though. 

Ideas were running out, and many were beginning to wonder if they would have to start using the tough love method in an attempt to at least try and knock Richard out of his self-imposed imprisonment.

And then Gareth returned.

Galavant was pacing back and forth across the throne room when Gareth showed up. He had managed to get past the guards with little to no resistance - either because they still respected him, or because they were too afraid of him to protest. (Galavant had been trying to get Richard to either retrain his guards or find new ones for a long time now, considering how incompetent his current ones were overall.)

“What–” Galavant paused, registering the sight of the man standing a few feet away. Then he unsheathed his sword. “Leave here, or I will not hesitate to make you.” 

“Out of my way,” Gareth retorted. “What are you even doing here? I’d have thought you’d left with your lady love by now.” 

“Normally I would have, but _someone_ had to stay and keep an eye on Richard while he adjusted to life as a king again,” Galavant replied acidly, taking a few steps forward. “Since his best friend decided betrayal was a more appealing action to take.” 

Gareth blinked, looking momentarily stunned, but then the scowl was back. “What’re you talking about?” 

Galavant treated him with a look that said _don’t play stupid with me._ “You know what I’m talking about.”

They were standing toe-to-toe now, Galavant with his sword held out to the side, ready to strike, and Gareth with his hand over his own sword’s hilt - just in case. “You don’t understand a thing, pretty boy.” 

“Maybe I don’t understand your side of it,” Galavant said in a quiet but steely tone. “But I do understand that when Richard heard you had taken over the throne, I could visibly see him break. I do understand that for weeks, Richard hasn’t so much has smiled. I do understand that he hasn’t come out of his room for ages because you were his only friend and you never really cared. So no, I don’t understand a thing - not about your side of the story. Truth be told, I don’t care about that side. All I care about is that I’m the one who’s been saddled with trying to get Richard to move on with life again.”

Gareth went very still and very silent, and for a long moment, all he did was stare at Galavant with an unreadable expression. And then he shoved past and started toward the corridor that eventually would lead to Richard’s chambers. 

“Hey!” Galavant ran after him, attempting to chase him down and assuming the worst.

 

 

Richard curled up further under the blankets. He wasn’t sure what time it was - some time after noon, for sure. He had been in bed all day, listlessly reading a book of fairy tales in between naps. The romance and dreams-come-true of the stories simultaneously comforted and hurt him.

He knew he ought to eat lunch - the chef had been bringing him his meals personally, and it was very appreciated that he was making the effort to try and be of some comfort. But Richard just didn’t feel like eating. Galavant had been right before; all he really had the stomach for were cakes, breads, and the occasional piece of chicken.

Just as he was beginning to drift off, hidden safely in the darkness beneath the blankets, his door slammed open. He had left it unlocked - Galavant had been insisting upon it and he had finally given in - and now regretted that choice.

He sat up. “Gal, the least you could do is kn–”

His words cut off short when he saw, not Galavant, but Gareth standing there. Silence fell for a tense moment, and then Richard all but fell out of bed, scrambling backward toward the corner, hands held up defensively as his heart raced. “Stay away from me.” He meant to sound commanding, but instead his voice broke.

Gareth hesitated. It occurred to Richard that he had never once seen Gareth look uncertain - not until now. Then he spoke. “Oi. Look…” 

“No. No, no,” Richard replied, on the verge of babbling, he spoke so quickly. “Stay away from me. Get out.” But inside, he kept saying, _Don’t go. Don’t leave again._

“Look. I don’t know what ya heard, but let me explain,” Gareth said, taking a step forward, reaching out toward Richard. 

Richard quailed, pressing himself against the wall. Betrayal echoed inside his head, and for one brief moment he feared that it was all ending - that Gareth had completely and totally betrayed him, that Madalena had convinced him to come back and get rid of Richard once and for all, that he was going to die at the hands of his first friend…

Then Galavant burst into the room, holding his sword and looking frantic. Gareth turned, distracted by the sudden commotion, and then reached for his own weapon. Galavant advanced on him, ready to fight - to defend. 

How ironic that roles had been reversed; that Galavant was defending Richard from Gareth and not the other way around.

The two of them looked about to fight, shouting at each other; Richard couldn’t pick out a single coherent word in the mess and clapped his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes tight before finally shouting, “Enough!” 

Gareth immediately went still, conditioned from the age of ten to follow any orders given by Richard. Galavant hesitated a moment before stepping back, looking quizzically at the king.

They were both waiting for him to say something, so he did. “Both of you get out. And stop fighting.”

“With all due respect,” Galavant began. “This is the man who betrayed you. I don’t exactly think he can just be left to wander about.”

Gareth started to protest, looking more than a little angry.

Richard spoke first. “Just…” He raked a trembling hand through his messy hair, finally meeting Gareth’s eyes, heart in his throat. “Gareth, why are you here? Be honest or I’ll let Galavant have his way.”

Hells, how the words stung. Stung because once upon a time, this would never have happened. Stung because once upon a time, Gareth would have been the one to take care of trouble and not Galavant. 

Gareth glowered at Galavant, who glared back at him. Richard waited on edge until Gareth finally turned his eyes onto the king, and explained.

“I couldn’t just rebel right off, ‘cause I’m no use to you or anybody else dead and that’s what I would have been had I just decided to go fighting her. I had to bide my time ‘til I was sure everything was gonna work out. I had to pretend so she wouldn’t have reason to think I was up to something. So yeah. Yeah, I had to make it look like a betrayal. I didn’t have a choice.”

Richard was very silent, taking in the information and running it through his head, and while it alleviated some of the fear, it didn’t hurt any less, and he didn’t know why.

Galavant voiced the reason why for him. “Oh, and you couldn’t just rid yourself of her and be done with it? It’s not like anyone would have stopped you. I saw enough of you in Valencia to know that no one would dare cross you. You could have easily just–”

“Now, listen here, ya bleedin’ ignorant–!”

Richard decided he had had enough and that he needed time to think. So he ducked past the two angry men in front of him and disappeared out the door. He could hear rapid footsteps chasing him from the staircase, and turned the corner abruptly, managing to keep just out of their sight. He ran to the only moderately safe place he could think of - the kitchen. Normally he’d go to the very top of the castle, but Gareth knew that was his usual hiding spot, it wouldn’t work this time.

When he barged into the kitchen, breathing raggedly, the servants and the chef looked up from their activities, expressions varying from shocked to nervous. Richard, still agitated and overwhelmed, wanted nothing more than to shrink back and hide. He almost did, but Chef Vincenzo approached him, looking mildly worried. “What’s the rush, my King?”

Richard drew in a slightly unsteady breath. “Chef. Yes, ah… is… is there some place here in the kitchens where I could possibly… well, hide?”

The chef had a million questions in his eyes, but he nodded and gestured toward the back of the kitchen. Richard followed him into a spacious pantry, filled with herbs and fruits and vegetables, the room fragrant with earthy and sharp scents. 

“Here, my King.” Vincenzo pulled a pile of empty burlap sacks away from underneath acrate and arranged them against the wall. Richard went and sat down without another word, arms wrapped around himself. 

“Is… is everything all right?” The chef sounded genuinely concerned.

“Yes,” Richard lied. He waited, expecting Vincenzo to leave. But after a few seconds, he glanced up and saw him still standing there. 

Then the chef sat down on the floor in front of Richard. “I mean no disrespect, sire, but you sure don’t seem like everything is all right.” 

He was softspoken as always, with that uncertain lilt to his voice - the one that betrayed the fact that he always lived in fear of overstepping his boundaries. 

Richard sighed, head down, hands twisting in front of him. And in a rush, he told the chef everything - about his reasons for not eating properly, his reasons for being locked away in his room all this time, the emotions, the fact Gareth was back and his explanation for the betrayal… 

Vincenzo listened patiently, and when Richard finally went silent, he was only quiet for a moment before speaking. “I am sorry, my King.”

“Me too,” Richard replied drearily, picking at the frayed edge of one of the burlap sacks. 

“Might I give my two cents’?” Vincenzo asked cautiously. 

“Mmh.” Richard nodded, still picking at the edge of the sack.

“Don’t give up, just yet.”

Richard finally looked up, frowning at the chef. “What are you saying?”

Vincenzo paused, seeming to be gathering his words. “Don’t give up on him. Gareth, I mean. Sure, he seems to have really done something unforgivable, don’t get me wrong - but there’s still a chance that, well… he’s telling the truth, you know?”

Richard nodded. “I know. Just… it hurts, you understand? I’ve known him for years and he was the one by my side all that time without fail, and then to just take over the throne like that…” He waved his hands in a broad, aimless gesture of agitation. “Gal is right, he could have just dethroned Madalena and banished her without much trouble! He’s Gareth, he’s strong, no one would dare stand against him.”

“I know.” Vincenzo hesitantly reached out and patted Richard’s shoulder. “Just give it time, my King. Don’t try to work it out all at once. Galavant won’t let anything happen to ya. And truth be told, sire, I don’t think anything bad will happen. Personally, I think Gareth is tellin’ the truth. Like I said, just take it slow, yeah?” 

“Right.” Richard sighed, dragging a hand across his face. He flicked his gaze upward at Vincenzo, a pang of guilt in his chest. “Thank you. I know I’ve never given you any reason to help me, but you are anyway.”

Vincenzo waved a hand dismissively.”Ach, don’t worry, sire. It’s all good.” He gave Richard a reassuring grin, and somehow, for some reason, it was genuine. 

Richard didn’t understand how it could be good after how he had treated the chef in the past. He didn’t understand a lot of things. But he understood kindness, especially now, and that was what he was seeing. So he responded with a tentative smile.

Before another word could be spoken, there was a clattering in the kitchen, and someone called for Vincenzo. He glanced over his shoulder, and then back at Richard. “I have to go. Supper won’t make itself. Will you be alright? Should I send someone in to sit with you, my King?”

Richard shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Vincenzo got to his feet. “All right, then. Stay here long as you like. I’ll bring you a bite to eat as soon as I can, just in case you’re hungry.” With that, he left and returned to the kitchen outside. 

Richard lay down on top of the burlap sacks, letting the fragrances of herbs and spices and earth wash over him, and tried to think everything through with a clear mind. It was more difficult than he thought it would be.

 

 

He remained holed up in the pantry for hours, finding it strangely comforting to be curled up there among plants, alone with the sounds of people chattering quietly in the kitchen while they made food to keep him company. Vincenzo brought him some soup at one point, and somehow Richard managed to force most of it down, though eating was the last thing on his mind.

Shortly after that, he heard a voice in the kitchen - a loud voice, an urgent voice. Gareth’s voice. “Oi. Any of you lot seen Richard?”

Richard subconsciously ducked down among the burlap, holding his breath.

At first, no one had answered - no one could find courage to speak to Gareth. He frightened them, and with good reason. A woman’s voice, thin and reedy, piped up. “He’s–”

But Vincenzo, ever loyal, cut her off, his voice wavering just a bit. “Sorry, sir, but he’s not here. Perhaps try the stables. You know how he loves the horses.” 

Footsteps. Then an uncomfortable silence. Then someone speaking up. “Vincenzo, he’s in the pantry.”

“Aye, I know that. Just leave him.” Vincenzo’s words were hushed. “He needs some time to think, away from everybody else.” 

Richard idly wondered why the chef - the chef whose father and grandfather Richard himself had had killed - even cared, but found it touching nonetheless. Suddenly sleepy, warm and full and surrounded by pleasant smells, Richard curled up and lie down, tucking his face into the crook of his arm. A few moments later, he had drifted off.

 

 

He woke up to the faint glow of a lantern breaking the darkness. There was a note beside him and he picked it up, squinting at it.

_Didn’t want to leave you alone. Hope you don’t mind._

Richard was momentarily confused, until he looked up and saw Vincenzo sprawled out on the ground a few feet away, snoring quietly.

More of the fuzzy feelings and the confusion at the odd kindness. Richard stood up, shifting the pile of burlap sacks. He stumbled, running into one of the shelves with a resounding thud and he froze, wide-eyed. 

Vincenzo jolted and sat up, blinking blearily. “Sire?”

“Sorry,” Richard whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Ach, it’s alright.” Vincenzo looked up at him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I was going to go for a bit of a walk and come back,” Richard admitted. He sort of wanted to go back to his room now - Gareth had no doubt left by this point, and as much as the pantry comforted him, Richard sort of wanted to curl up in his own bed now. 

“Right.” Vincenzo nodded. Then he hesitated. “Actually… d’you think maybe you’re safe to go, just for the night, my King? You’re always welcome back in the morning, it’s just… this floor isn’t very comfortable, for either you or me.”

Oh, there. So they both wanted to return to their own chambers. That made Richard feel a bit better. “Quite all right. Thank you. Truly.”

Vincenzo smiled, though it was a sleepy one. “Anytime. Goodnight, sire.”

“Goodnight.” 

Vincenzo carefully snuffed out the light of the lantern, then left the pantry. Richard stood there in the dark for a moment longer before leaving as well.

He wanted to go to the top of the castle - the stars and the moon were a comfort, because they never faltered. They were always there. Sometimes they changed positions, or shapes, or size, but they were always there. They never left. 

But it was cold outside, and it was cold in the corridors of the castle, and Richard knew his blankets would be much warmer. So he ascended the staircases that led to his room and opened the door as quietly as he could, slipping inside. 

When he turned around, he let out a yelp. 

There, sitting in a chair in the corner and half-asleep, was Gareth. The sudden noise woke him up with a start and he stood up silently. 

Richard’s heart nearly pounded out of his chest and he stood there, frozen, by the door. He almost opened it and ran out again, but he wasn’t sure where he could go. His limbs were still stiff from sleeping on the floor of the pantry and he wasn’t sure he could outrun Gareth a second time. 

So he stood there, and Gareth stood in the corner, and the two of them stared at each other - Gareth’s expression unreadable, and Richard’s one of a man who had just been startled and still was to some degree.

Finally, Gareth spoke. “Figured you’d come back here eventually. So I sneaked in while pretty boy was distracted.”

“Why?” Richard asked. It was all he could manage to say.

“‘cause I needed to talk to you without him breathin’ down my neck,” Gareth retorted. 

“You already explained, Gare–th.” He almost said ‘Gare’, and added the last two letters soon after, because he wasn’t sure he was allowed to use that nickname anymore. 

Gareth grimaced. “Sit down, will ya?”

“Why?” Richard repeated. 

“‘cause it’s a bit difficult to say what I’m thinkin’ if you’re standing by the door ready to bolt,” Gareth replied in exasperation. “Bloody hell, if you’re that scared of me, I’ll stay at the other side of the room myself. Just sit down.”

Richard hesitated, but the words - _if you’re that scared of me_ \- stung somehow, so he retreated to the bed and sat down on it, hugging his knees to his chest and avoiding Gareth’s gaze. 

There was silence for a moment and then Gareth sighed. “Nothing I say is gonna fix this mess, is it?” 

Richard had no response to that. So Gareth continued.

“I meant what I said earlier, y’know. Sure, fine, maybe I should have gone ‘bout it differently. Maybe I messed up. I pro’lly did. You and Galavant are probably right, and I didn’t have to wait so long to get the queen off the throne. But c’mon. You’ve known me for nigh on decades now, and if I wanted to betray you I could have done it long ago. I didn’t. Why d’you think that is?” No response from Richard. “It’s ‘cause I didn’t want to and I still don’t.”

Richard shifted on the bed, head still ducked behind his arms, which still held his knees to his chest. He watched Gareth from behind a curtain of hair. “Why not?”

“‘cause I don’t.”

“But you did betray me.” Richard wasn’t sure, now.

“Bloody hell! I did not! It was a ruse, and apparently a damn good one if it has you this worried,” Gareth burst out.

Richard flinched, drawing his knees even tighter to his chest. 

Gareth sighed yet again. “Dammit, you silly ponce, I’m trying to be open and all touchy-feely for once to try and calm you and you’re not making it easy.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that I should make it easy on you after you hurt me,” Richard retorted, suddenly feeling petulant. Weeks of despair and feelings of insecurity and fear and sorrow tearing his heart apart had taken their toll and it all came spilling out. “I lost my best friend, Gareth, even if it was just for a while, and maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you but you were my only friend and I lost you and I was expected to move on, and I couldn’t, because the one person in the world I thought cared suddenly didn’t.”

Gareth clenched his fists. “You really think I didn’t care?” he snapped. “You really think I didn’t realise every single damn day that I spent in Valencia that you would be all emotional about it if you found out?”

All Richard could focus on was ‘emotional’. “I think I have the right to be emotional, all things considered!”

“Oh, ‘course you do, except you’re king again and have nothing to worry about. You can take bloody Valencia back for all I care, because I didn’t want to rule it in the first place,” Gareth retorted. “I never fancied the idea of being king. If I ever had, I could have easily just taken your throne ages ago.” 

Richard wanted to come up with some smart reply, but realised he had nothing left that made much sense, but angry words that made no sense were better than tears. “Then why didn’t you?” He got up, intending to leave the room.

Gareth made a growling noise in the back of his throat. “I already said it’s ‘cause I didn’t want to, are you deaf?”

Richard ignored him, reaching for the door handle. Before he even touched it, strong arms wrapped around him from behind and hauled him back. He flailed around, trying to escape, but Gareth wasn’t about to give up that easily, and pushed him down onto the bed.

“Leave me alone! You already did once anyway, for Madalena,” Richard said, voice rising as tears stung his eyes. “Everybody leaves, Gareth! Even you, and I never thought you would!”

Gareth hissed out a breath from between gritted teeth, raising his hand and clenching it in a fist, turning in a circle, the picture of agitation. Finally, he stopped and leaned down a bit, staring Richard straight in the eye. “I’m sorry. All right? _I’m sorry_.” 

“Why?” Richard mumbled, looking away and staring at the blankets. “You’re never sorry for things. You said it’s unmanly.”

“Yeah, well, forget I said that. I’m sorry,” Gareth repeated, his voice low. “I mucked up, alright? And I’m sorry. You think I didn’t care? Bloody hell, Richard, I had bad dreams every damn night ‘cause of how guilty it all made me and you know me well enough. I don’t have bad dreams.”

Richard glanced sideways, still not quite able to meet Gareth’s eyes. “You had bad dreams… about me?” 

“You’re gonna make me spell it out, ain’t ya?” Gareth sounded exasperated again. “Yeah, yeah, I had bad dreams about you, ya prat. About you getting yourself killed, about how you’d react if ya found out what I did, taking the throne and all. Looks like I wasn’t too far off the mark with those dreams. It’s my own damn fault, and I’m gonna admit that outright, and all I can say is I’m sorry ‘cause I can’t change what I did.”

Richard wanted to be angry - angry was so much easier - but it was too much and he started to shake, the tears finally escaping and his breathing becoming spasmodic as he struggled to hold sobs back. 

He heard Gareth string together a few colourful words, which only made him tremble more. Everything was blurred and he couldn’t see whether Gareth was even still there.

Then suddenly the bed jolted as someone sat down beside him, and he was gathered into two strong arms, wrapped in a tight - almost too tight - hug. The scent was distinctly Gareth, and without much thought, Richard returned the hug as tightly as he could, shivering and just clinging to Gareth in an attempt to remain grounded as he cried.

“Oh, ya bloody idiot.” Gareth’s voice sounded strained, not from the hug but from emotion. His hands were gripping Richard’s shirt as though he also needed to stay grounded. “Yeah, yeah, I care. I care too damn much.” 

Richard drew in a shuddering breath, his weeping slowing down a bit. He didn’t understand what Gareth meant; you couldn’t care too much, not really, not when it came to friendships - right? He buried his face in the crook between Gareth’s neck and shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent and holding on tightly, refusing to let go of the hug. “I missed you, Gare. I missed you.” His voice was muffled by Gareth’s neck.

“Yeah. I know.” Gareth loosened the hug a bit. “Missed you too.”

“For realsies?” Richard asked, arms still wrapped around Gareth.

“Sure.” Gareth gently disentangled himself from the embrace, suddenly refusing to meet Richad’s gaze. 

“Why?”

“Always with the whys,” Gareth grumbled. “Already told you why. ‘cause even if you don’t think I do anymore, I care. Too much.” His words were almost inaudible, he spoke so low and kept his face turned away.

“I don’t understand–” Richard started.

Gareth made another irritated sound in the back of his throat, and suddenly a hand was tangled in Richard’s hair, and he was being pulled forward, and warm lips pressed against his in a kiss somehow both fierce and gentle. He leaned into it by instinct, hand against Gareth’s chest for support, and then after several seconds longer than either of them expected, it was over and Richard could scarcely breathe. He rested his head against Gareth’s shoulder for a long moment, trembling again but this time from the buzz rather than fear.

“I think I understand now,” he whispered, feeling as though speaking any louder than that would be wrong, right now. 

“Mmh.” Gareth didn’t speak words. He didn’t have to. He had always spoke better with actions and Richard - when he wasn’t upset - knew how to read them. 

Then he yawned, and Gareth pushed him back onto the bed again. “Get some rest. You’re tired.” 

Richard wasn’t about to argue, and snuggled under the blankets. But then Gareth started to stand up, and Richard reached out, seizing his arm and pulling with such force that he caused Gareth to sprawl out on the bed. “Gare, please stay. Don’t leave.”

There was a beat of silence as Gareth manouevered himself into a sitting position. Then, with an incoherent mumble under his breath, he got off the bed again. 

Richard was worried for a moment that he was going to leave - but then Gareth crossed the room to the other side of the bed and laid down under the blankets. Happier than he had been in a while, Richard inched closer until his head rested against Gareth’s chest. He could hear the steady, rhythmic song of his heartbeat and found it soothing. 

Just as Richard drifted off to sleep, nestled close, Gareth - in answer to his words from before - said quietly, “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna leave.”


End file.
